The Heartsmith
by R.L. Woodson
Summary: In a quiet little town, a man named Dean works as a Heartsmith, fixing the broken hearts of others. Every so often, there is a heart that is too damaged to repair, but Dean does what he must to ensure that everyone is happy, even if that means giving up pieces of himself.


**Title:** The Heartsmith

 **Rated:** K

 **Summary:** In a quiet little town, a man named Dean works as a Heartsmith, fixing the broken hearts of others. Every so often, there is a heart that is too damaged to repair, but Dean does what he must to ensure that everyone is happy, even if that means giving up pieces of himself.

 **A/N:** I usually don't do K rated stuff, and I haven't written this short of a piece in a long time, but it was too adorable to pass up. It's based on a comic I saw on Pinterest. (I did a lot of clicking and still didn't find whoever drew it originally. I'm sure it's google-able, though.) I'm sure this has been done by others, because the pin is popular and people love writing, so apologies if you've seen this one before.

I'm more than halfway done writing _Love at First Sin_ , if you happen to be following that, but this is my little break. We all need a little break sometime.

 **The Heartsmith**

Castiel stood in the bustling marketplace, wicker basket resting firmly on his hip. Inside were dozens of little glowing hearts, some donated, some found, and some he saved from those who would otherwise mistreat them. He stood that morning, chipper as ever, as the townspeople passed him by.

"Would you like to buy a heart?" he called out. Some ladies gave him a passing glance, a gentleman or two raising an eyebrow in interest before going back to their business.

Castiel straightened out his nice red shirt and smoothed down his finest tan pants. He tried again. "I have quite a few beauties to offer!" Still nothing.

A few moments later, a tall man rushed by, looking frantic. "Sir?" Castiel asked. The man turned towards him, pale blue eyes flashing under a heavy brow. He had a trimmed beard and close-cropped light hair. "Would you like to buy a heart?" Castiel asked when the man stopped.

"Do you also happen to repair broken hearts?" the man said in a thick southern accent. He stuck out a hand. "Benny, sorry."

"Castiel," he replied, shaking the hand. "And no, I just sell hearts."

Benny's expression darkened. "I see."

Castiel hated to see this man so sad, his hand over his presumably broken heart. "But," he started as Benny turned his head. "If you go down that road, you'll find the heartsmith." Castiel smiled. The heartsmith was a good, kind man. He could repair even the most shattered hearts.

"Thank you, Castiel!" Benny grinned.

"You're welcome, Benny." The man rushed off.

Benny walked quickly down the road, murmuring "'Scuse me,"s and "Pardon me,"s as he bumped into the market-goers. His eyes passed over the facades and eventually landed on a large gold plaque, "HEARTSMITH" written over the metal. The door was wooden and worn, the patterns sloping and curving in a way that reminded him of the heart he was carrying, broken down the doorline.

He knocked quickly and entered, taking in the little smithery. A man sat at a workbench, hunched over a glowing red object. A bead of sweat ran down his temple and down the strong tendon in his neck. He swiped at his golden brown hair with a gloved hand, upsetting the placement of sturdy goggles on his nose.

"Um, excuse me?" Benny said, hesitant to break the careful quiet of the room.

"Huh?" the man grunted in his chair, turning. His full lips quirked up and he pushed off his goggles, revealing glittering green eyes. "Oh, a customer!"

The man stood fluidly and crossed the room, his bowlegs all the more endearing. "Welcome, Sir," he said to Benny with a smile of pearly whites. He put his hand on a slim hip. "What can I do for you?"

"A young man told me you repair hearts?" Benny gestured vaguely out the window.

"Yup, that's what I do! I'm Dean, the Heartsmith, pleased to meet you...?"

"Benny," Dean shook Benny's hand with an audible sigh of relief. "Pleased to meet you too." He looked appreciatively around the room, and then back at Dean, who colored slightly.

Dean took a small step away from him and glanced back quickly to his smithery. "What seems to be the problem?"

Benny's clear blue eyes turned downcast, and he pulled a small glowing object out of his coat pocket. "Well..." he murmured, not needing to finish.

Dean brow creased at the pitiful heart. Its glow was so faint, and a huge, jagged tear split it nearly down the middle. Cracks branched off from the tear, and it seemed very fragile in Benny's strong hands. He must have been in so much pain. "Oh boy, this one looks pretty damaged," he murmured, bending to inspect it closer.

"So... you can't repair it?" Benny's downcast look struck a chord of pain in Dean's chest.

"I didn't say that!" he assured the man. "It might just take a while."

"That..." Benny avoided Dean's eyes, "might be a problem."

"Are you planning on getting married?" Dean joked, elbowing Benny in the ribs for good measure.

Benny smiled sheepishly. "Yes, actually."

Dean's eyes widened and his smile fell right off his face. "Oh," he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Congrats." He hoped Benny didn't hear the note of disappointment in his voice.

Benny took a breath. "However, as the wedding grows nearer, I find this heart incapable of loving," he said softly.

Dean's disappointment melted into sadness again. "I can see how that would be a problem." He shrugged. "Well, I suggest you leave it here for a while." Dean leaned against his table, donning his most winning smile. "I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best!"

"Thank you," Benny's lips spread into a smile once again. Dean felt his cheeks coloring. They colored even more when Benny grabbed his hand and held it tightly, placing the mangled heart in the other. "Take care of it, dear Heartsmith."

"Of course!" Dean stuttered out. "I don't know when it'll be ready. Just," he cleared his throat, "drop by whenever it's convenient for you."

"I will," Benny promised, and with one more soft smile, he was out of Dean's door and lost in the crowd.

o o o

"Would you like to buy a heart?" Castiel called out for the umpteenth time that day. His eyes sifted through the crowd and stopped when they found a familiar face. It was Benny, and he looked much happier than he had when Castiel last left him.

When Benny looked up, Castiel offered him a wave and a smile. Benny waved back and disappeared.

Castiel's smile faltered for once. Though he had seen the heartsmith only yesterday, he still ached to see him again. He and Dean had known each other for years. Castiel never showed it, but he wanted Dean very badly. He just never acted on it... He wasn't good enough.

Subtly, Castiel placed his palm over his chest, no glow radiating out from between his fingers.

o o o

The next day, Dean was hard at work on Benny's heart. It was damaged, badly, but he was determined to fix it. This man had a fiancee to get back to, which gave Dean a nasty heavy feeling in his gut, but a guy could dream, right?

"Hello!" a thick southern voice floated from the doorway. "I'm sorry for bothering you today as well."

Dean turned and pushed his goggles off. It was Benny! A smile lit up his features. "Oh! It's you, Benny!"

Benny held up a large wrapped box. "I brought pie."

Dean's mouth watered. He loved pie more than almost anything else. They dug in, giving each other little secretive glances when the other wasn't looking.

Dean finished his piece. "It's delicious!" he exclaimed, debating on whether or not he should cut himself another slice. Nah, he'd save it for later. Dean put down his fork and looked up at Benny, whose smile was just beautiful. "None of my customers have ever bought me pie," Dean said quietly.

"It's the least I can do for someone who is repairing my heart."

A worried look crossed Dean's face and he rubbed the back of his neck. "About that..."

Benny's worry mirrored Dean's. "Is there a problem?"

"Well..." Dean crossed his arms. "Some vital parts required for the 'love' function are missing." Dean had tried all the spare parts lying around he could find, but they weren't filled with the life needed for real love. He'd tried working around the empty space as well, but Benny deserved a full heart, not one riddled with holes.

"I see..." Benny looked at the ground. "So I will never be able to love my fiancee?" The pain on his face pulled a knot tightly in Dean's chest. "She deserves better," Benny murmured.

Dean felt a warm prickling sensation behind his eyes, but held the tears back. He knew what it felt like to fall short. To not live up to the expectations of those who love you. It was painful, and this man... Benny deserved better. Dean rubbed at his chest, willing the soft red glow to go away.

"I _will_ fix it for you," he said with determination. He would not let Benny down. A small tone of resignation crept into his voice. "There's still something I could do."

Benny's eyes lit up. "Thank you Dean!" Benny took his hands once again, so close that Dean had to lean back in his chair. His face conveyed so much happiness and love.

Dean smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. That love wouldn't be directed at him. But still, he would do what needed to be done. For Benny. "Don't mention it," he said as Benny let go of him. "I'm happy to help a kind person like you, Benny."

The man crossed to the door, a smile plastered on his face. "I will visit you again tomorrow." He waved.

"See you tomorrow then!" Dean called after him. The door shut.

Dean turned his back and looked at Benny's heart that he'd been working so hard on. Its glow was stronger, but it needed something more. Something that _felt_. Dean didn't try to stop the glow in his own chest now. He pressed into his shirt with his palm, bright red shining through the cracks in his fingers.

"But will it be enough?" he murmured to himself.

o o o

Benny stood in the smithery, almost giddy with delight. He held his heart in his hands. It was scarred, but it was glowing and beating and _alive_ , and that was all that mattered.

"You did it, Dean!" Benny exclaimed.

Though Dean felt a little more hollow, he beamed at his customer. "Of course! I told you I'd fix it, didn't I?"

Benny pressed it to his chest. "It's amazing," he breathed. "I can feel my heart overflowing with love."

"Really?" Dean subconsciously clutched his shirt, over his chest. "That's great!"

"Yes, I'm sure my fiancee will be happy." Benny looked so calm and content, but Dean ached.

"Oh... I'm sure she will..." He gave Benny a weak smile. He knew the whole time what would happen. Benny was engaged, and his heart didn't belong to Dean. He was only borrowing it, repairing it, and then handing it back. It hurt, but Benny deserved it.

"I hoped to see you at my wedding?" Benny placed a hand on Dean's shoulder.

Dean forced himself not to flinch. "Of course."

o o o

A few hours later, Dean sat alone in his workshop. His hand clutched tightly at his pitted chest and he slumped on his workbench, hunching in on himself. This always happened. He would be fine. The pain would dull, eventually, and then he'd keep working.

"Poor Heartsmith," he heard from the doorway. Dean looked up with tear-filled eyes. It was Castiel in his pristine red shirt. His basket was still full of hearts; he had probably sold only one or two that day.

Castiel came closer, his deep blue eyes shining with sadness. "Why do you always share pieces of your heart with others?"

Dean sniffed and tried to lighten the mood. "Look who's talking," he stared up at the man in front of him, who gazed so intently into his eyes. "How come you sell hearts, even though you don't have one of your own?"

"Because none of these hearts fit me," he deadpanned. Castiel's eyes slid off Dean's, and he immediately felt bad. They had both been through a lot, and Dean knew that wasn't a good topic to joke about.

"I see." Dean looked up at Castiel, eyes sweeping over his dark, tousled hair and cupid's bow lips. They had both grown in the years they'd known each other, and Dean noticed that his chest was glowing faintly. "Then maybe..." Maybe he knew how to make both of them happy.

With one last swipe at his residual tears, Dean took out his own tattered heart and knelt before the blue-eyed heart merchant. "Would what's left of this heart fit you?"

Castiel's eyes widened, and the basket of hearts clattered to the floor. He put a hand up to his empty chest. "You're giving me your heart?" he asked, his surprise tinged with hope.

"Yes," Dean smiled fully now. "If this one is alright with you?"

Castiel's eyes welled with tears. He had resigned himself to a lifetime without love, and here Dean was, offering up his own. Castiel pulled Dean to his feet and crushed him in a hug, tears falling down his cheeks. "Thank you, Dean!"

o o o

Castiel sat in the hospital bed, nestled in with an open book on his lap. "How are you doing today?" a strong, southern voice said from the doorway.

"Doctor," Castiel greeted him with a smile.

"Tomorrow is your big day," Doctor Lafitte said. "You're lucky that we found a donor for your heart in time."

Castiel glanced back to his book with a little smile. "Yes," he murmured, "the Heartsmith is very kind."

"Uh, who?" Dr. Lafitte asked.

"It's okay," Castiel settled back down into his pillows. "People don't remember him, even those he helped." Castiel smiled at his book, thinking of his Heartsmith, Dean, with the bright green eyes. "But I will always remember him."

 **A/N:** This was actually really fun. I may or may not write an expansion- more storyline, less comic book. Who knows. Thank you for reading anyway!


End file.
